Think Dartmouth: a school in a picturesque college town, charming but remote. A quintessential college campus, with a clock tower, a college green and a set of neatly matched, colonial-style academic buildings.

Many students have become blasé to the “hookup culture” on college campuses. For Dartmouth, the phrase falls into the same categories of “Greek life” and “drinking culture” — things students don’t seem to question after a couple weeks on campus.

For many Dartmouth students, a drive to learn seems to come naturally; students are constantly engaged in a rigorous 10 week-term of three — or four — highly focused courses and several extracurricular activities. However, once we try to trace back the intellectual motivation that fuels this constant “grind,” we might not always be sure why we do what we do.

This is the new story of Dartmouth. It is written between night shifts at Novack and pong games on Webster Avenue, between the time spent stressing about academics and the countless hours worrying about relationships, between the final hole of the Hanover Country Club and a seat in the financial aid office.

Winters at Dartmouth are my favorite terms. Winters in general are my favorite time — there is something magical in the beginning of the year, the promise of something new and the hope for many snow days.